


It's not all Coincidence

by kunehonim



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunehonim/pseuds/kunehonim
Summary: Baekhyun faints outside of his apartment and maybe it's the last time he's spending Valentine's Day by himself on the cold tiled floor.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Baekhyun clasped his trembling hands together, his shoulders following suit as he raises his head to glare at the air conditioning above him. He sniffed hard, impending cold making its early signals and he wonders if he should prepare for a sick leave in advance because he was not planning on coming to work with a bad headache and a leaking nose.

After some thorough thinking, he comes to the conclusion that he may or may not have to tweak his email to schedule the sick leave letter sent to the Human Resources so that they can prepare for his replacement the next day.

Rubbing his nose with his pointer finger, the brunet gets to typing, nimble fingers working at the keys to begin his sob story on how he needs to take two or three days off because he was feeling under the weather.

 

Baekhyun is drowned by his scarf as he walks out of the office come evening. He takes one life-threatening sniff and he grimaces at his situation because he’s freezing and Valentine’s is just around the corner. He also wants someone to cuddle with and _share body heat_ with if you get what he’s saying, and the fact that he’s actually sick and burning up doesn’t make it any better; in fact it makes him feel ten times worse.

As he rounds the corner leading to his humble _rundown_ abode, the little man lets out a grieved sigh because he knows that his bills are piling up and most probably even the heater can’t be paid off with his declining account status. Baekhyun curses to kingdom come why his mom had to die (atleast that's what he wants to believe) and why his stupid as hell step-douche had to run away with so much debtors left unpaid.

If lucky after his sick leave—he hopes—all the debtors will be out on a family gathering, a date of some sort or just that they’re out in general to celebrate Valentine’s Day with their loved ones. Maybe having no one was a blessing in disguise for someone like him who’s so caught up in every possible headlights, he freaking beat the deer with such bad luck. The petite sighs at the thoughts running in his head, and as he struggles to fumble out the keys to his apartment in his pocket, he ends up cussing as they jingle out to the floor.

He’s starting to feel light headed so it would be the best time to have the door swing open by itself—he thinks that he won’t be able to get up once he does kneel over to grab those keys.

“Freaki—“

The last thing the brunet hears in his blurred out system is a loud thud—guessing correctly that it’s his body.

 

 

Baekhyun’s consciousness zones back in in a time that he doesn’t remember. His surroundings are dark, with nothing to see and maybe if he ever tried to poke himself in the eye, he himself won’t be able to see it coming.

Fear slowly creeps into his system like a ballerina strutting into the dark stage—and as he settles in on different thoughts, both good and bad, his eyes begin to dart aimlessly, sensing that he’s not in a place familiar to him.

“H-hello?” He meekly muttered, “hello?” He tried again but there’s nothing but blank space beside him.

He could feel the cold air crawling at his spine, and the fear is back but this time with a harsher impact because he suddenly hears the door open—creaking open—like how they do in the ugliest of horror movies he’s seen.

Dear lord, save him.

“Who’s there?!” He screeches, and he’s not the least bit ashamed of it.

Baekhyun’s fists ball up in preparation; to defend himself, to fight for himself. But all he gets in that moment of high and adrenaline rush is his body being shaken like a rag doll that needs to be thrown around the wall four times per corner.

“Hey!” The voice said. “Wake up! You’re having a nightmare!”

And so _so_ true to those words, his eyelids jolt open, sweat akin to water running down on his form the way a shower would, mars his too warm skin and the first thing—or rather person—that he opens his eyes to is a pair of eyebrows aggressively meeting half way; and hey, even light-headed he can tell that the overall picture of the young man holding his vegetable-ill body is too good to be true.

Maybe he conjures the Adonis’ son whenever he’s sick like this but he’s not complaining.

Baekhyun gets out of his mindless rumblings as he feels himself being put in a seated position. Slowly, his senses come back to him to tell him that he wasn’t on a cold floor or a cold room that would mean that he was not in his apartment.

The brunet sighs with great concern.

“Where am I?” His voice broken and hoarse comes out, making him wince at the itchy feeling, one weak hand ghosting over his throat.

“Whoa, you just woke up, you know. Don’t force yourself to speak.” The male uttered in a knowing manner.

Baekhyun’s eyes are still adjusting to the light, having been turned on just beside him—a lamp—and then he’s searching and searching, feelings his lips chapped and dry.

“Here,” The stranger gestures “have some water first. And before you talk like a machine gun with all your questions, let me make everything clear first; you have a high fever, and I found you on the floor, okay? I helped you out of your clothes because they’re already soaking with your sweat, and if I hadn’t then maybe you’d die of pneumonia, okay? You’ve been asleep for 2 days, and just—before you freak out on me, I went through your things to check for any contact person, and I only found your workplace.

I called them to say you won’t be able to come back for another week. They gave their permission and said to wish you a speedy recover...” the male shot off, and even if that made Baekhyun’s mind twist painfully for the lengthy speech, he didn’t care because wow, there really are still people with a good heart around—“Baekhyun.”—and maybe because the way the man said his name made his heart swell with so much warmth, hearing his name be uttered by someone in so long has almost made him forget how it sounded like.

The brunet blinks slowly, processing everything. His heart is heavy and so are his lungs—but maybe it’s because of the phlegm. The petite clears his throat before he mutters a small “Thank you…” his lips still touching the mouth of the tall glass of water.

And the male, on his wife beater—Baekhyun only noticed then—stands up as if he were startled, his eyes ghosting his bed-ridden form, the brunet knows, and he eyes him back shyly.

“C-Chanyeol. My name is Chanyeol.” The male purses his lips back as he says this.

Baekhyun, now feeling albeit better but not really wanting to be, hands the glass over and smiles.

“Thank you, Chanyeol.”

“You’re welcome.” The male says, erupting in a toothy grin which Baekhyun chuckles and coughs over.

The taller was quickly back to nursing him as he pats him on the back, helping him lie down on the soft bed, a bunch of pillows encasing him for  warmth.

“Now you just go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up once the soup is ready, okay?”

Baekhyun nods to this, feeling like a child all over again.

He wasn’t ready to be an adult so this very moment to him—even though he’s probably being delirious right now and maybe it’s all not real—is something he would cherish even after he recovers. Or dies, really he didn’t mind if this was life treating him well for the very last time.

Baekhyun snuggles onto the pillows, heaving out a sigh, and he drifts back to sleep, the name Chanyeol being chanted over and over inside his head.

 

 

**. . .**

 

 

Baekhyun was born with a silver spoon in his mouth—to put it in simpler terms, before his dad died, and before his step douche’s cousin ran off with all that’s left of their declining company—his mother practically unbelieving of her own son’s “mindless blabbering”, Baekhyun’s life was that of envy.

He used to have it all, a complete and stable family; respectable and looked up to was what their last name’s impression would give whenever they’re introduced.

 

But now, the Byuns are nothing but a lame old tale of riches to rags, the supposed little Anastasia of the family is left to fend off on his own, to run away from the debtors that his life’s Rasputin—his step-douche has compiled over the years.

What made it worse was that the mother who was his last hope had left him for good, ran off with another man once more, so he’s there, without a family and left with just his little boxes of memories all stashed in the storage room—or just his room, really.

 

But Baekhyun’s put all of that behind him. He’s forgotten all the things that have brought him to now, and he’s too busy trying to keep himself alive that maybe he too, has forgotten a long made promise whence he was but a young boy who craved for love and attention childishly— he still does but maybe in a different light.

Something a certain someone of the past made with him.

 

The morning shuffles in with a chirp of the birds outside. Baekhyun could hear them tweeting merrily and he opens his eyes to realize that he wasn’t awoken last night.

His stomach is rumbling madly, and his throat, back to being itchy for being liquid-deprived. He wonders if it’s the right thing to get out of bed, unknowing of his own limits as he’s still feeling sick and weak.

The door creaks as per usual, but Baekhyun’s fumbling in the dark anymore—instead he’s able to find the same man before him in a much better image.

Chanyeol; the name however foreign it sounds in his mind, the male sure lives up to suit the manly feeling it brings.

Tall, dark-peach colored hair—a sign of rebellion—he chuckles inwardly; the man is clad in a graphic tee, his slacks barely giving him justice for such long built legs.

Baekhyun bites his lower lip, feeling the need to comment on his fashion choices.

“Hey.” The male rumbles out.

Baekhyun almost forgot how his voice is so deep, he feels like falling on an endless pit whenever the guy opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey.” He returns, a small smile making its way on his face. “Good morning.”

“Yeah, morning.” The male clumsily chuckles, “Sorry I didn’t wake you up last night. Your fever went up again so I thought you needed more rest.” The male scratches the back of his head, worry lining his forehead.

“And I did.” He returns, “I’m feeling much better now compared to last night.

So thank you. Again.” He chirps.

The both of them share a moment of silence before Baekhyun finds himself being ushered out of the bed by the man, a small robe being hanged onto him.

“So you won’t feel cold.” Chanyeol mutters.

Baekhyun doesn’t think any further as they make way for the dining area, scent of mushroom soup lingering in his nostrils to remind him of the hunger he almost forgot.

 

**. . .**

 

 

Baekhyun is lying on the ground, three folds of thick blankets covering him as he scatters every pink paper that he has—old stashes of love notes that he used to exchange with someone when he was 8 years old.

He’s back from Chanyeol’s apartment, which to his surprise was just one floor above his own; Baekhyun still has one day of his sick leave and he chooses to spend it by remembering a few good things in his life—and as he went through them one by one, this is what it results to.

 **PCY** , the crusty envelopes always read.

T’was an old habit of his—exchanging letters, which rapidly came to a stop as soon as the news of his dad’s accident, blew up. And he smiles as he reads the gruesome hand writings of his own, little notes and circles made on each letter to highlight something that he vividly remembers swooning about.

“I wish we can meet.” One letter said; highlighted and marked with little hearts. The brunet laughs at his own ridiculousness.

And as Baekhyun shivers at the cold, his back flat on the floor, he raises the letter and heaves another lonely sigh.

“Yeah, I wish we could have met too.”

He says this to no one but himself.

 

 

His return to the office was in no way pleasant; except for the fact that Baekhyun ran into Chanyeol at the barely-functioning elevator of theirs.

To say that the second encounter is much better is a lie—because not only is Baekhyun stuttering out a greeting realizing that he has a little crush on his upstairs neighbour—but rather because Chanyeol seemed as though he were a completely different person from the other night, all suited up in black with a briefcase, glowing and blinding him dangerously like that.

With his pushed back hair and glaring expression, Baekhyun thought he’d rather just go back inside his measly apartment; so Chanyeol’s one of those… Scary bosses.

 

Okay, maybe first impressions never really last.

 

 

**. . .**

 

 

As Baekhyun nears the office entrance, he lets out a sigh of a lifetime, getting ready to be hosed down to work. He’s missed a lot in the office, he knows—and that means he has to follow up to the Human Resources department. He has to fill out his absence forms, get interviewed by the Manager—if lucky—because he’s heard of the rumors and the rumors get really nasty when they’re talking about a new HR Director coming in from England.

Says he’s some blond guy, angry at the world and thoroughly bosses the offices around, and that leads to him thinking that maybe he’d rather pass his letter of his resignation instead of an absence form—but either way, if the manager won’t be around today, then he gets to live the first experience with their Director first-hand.

Company guinea pig; yay.

 

Baekhyun spends the day talking to everyone and catching up. They said that some have already seen the new HR Director—complimenting his young age, being able to get into a high position so early in his career.

Once he’s back at his post, typing in the previous logs that he’s missed into an Excel file, making sure that the flight registry is up to date, the young receptionist tries very hard to keep his mind to work but that’s merely impossible when he feels as though a pair of eyes are watching him attentively that it makes him crane his neck past his oversized screen, expert hands still typing and then he finds a familiar pair.

The brunet’s eyes bulge out of their sockets as he settles onto the same man that he took the elevator out of his rundown apartment with, just hours earlier.

And he gulps, noticing that the people that are surrounding the same man that was nursing his useless self to health some two-three days ago are the big bosses of the company.

Baekhyun almost stumbles out of his seat, and he stands up—though that wouldn’t really seem obvious as his height fails him greatly, he makes a scene as he struggles out of his own skin, bowing respectfully at them.

“G-good morning.” _Crap crap crap crap,_ he stutters. That was not the time to stu-fucking-stter.

 

His heart drums against his chest as everything makes its place in his head. The big bosses leave, not giving him any sort of acknowledgement, just passing by him because he’s just a housefly in this company, he knows.

So as he makes sure that he coast is clear, he flumps back onto his seat with a grieved cry, hoping that the surveillance camera doesn’t record sounds.

Straightening himself back to his seat, he begins typing again, but it doesn’t really take him far before his phone is ringing, line 3 indicating an intercom.

“Baekhyun speaking.” He says with a practiced friendly tone.

And there’s that bit of silence before he hears someone sigh, clearing his throat.

“Byun. Baekhyun.” The voice says, and as much as Baekhyun himself would want to believe that he knows the voice, what sets his pulse speeding is the fact that the Director—the HR Director called him—shit did he do something wrong?

Baekhyun feels blood leaving his face as he attempts to stutter a reply, but the male chuckles on the other side of the line.

“Come to my office.”

“Y-yes. I’ll be right there. _Sir._ ” He waits for the male to hang up with a bang, but there’s only a kind click that lessens his nervousness.

 

The brunet’s feet seem to be broken as he finds himself taking long before he reaches the door to Chanyeol’s office.

He has an ugly frown marring his face because on the way there, his colleagues have been whispering at his back, wondering what he did wrong now because apparently, they still haven’t gotten over the fact that his last name is Byun.

_Maybe he’s going to drive the company to bankruptcy like his mom did._

_They’re finally seeing the light, I hope. Kick him out for good._

_Why is he going to the HR Director’s office? He’s not a VIP he’s just a receptionist…_

 

Baekhyun phases in front of the door before he’s met with one of their tea boys who opens the door for him; and even though he takes notice of the office—the first thing that catches his eye is a chiffon pink ribbon settled on the desk and he doesn’t know what takes over him because he rushes towards it, and grabs it to take a good look.

Baekhyun makes a face as he analyzes it. He remembers receiving some of these same exact ribbons.

“You made it.” A voice says.

The brunet jumps out of his body as he comes face to face with the HR Director—with his neighbour; oh god—“Y-yes. Sir.”

“Baekhyun.” The male scolds in a friendly manner, “Don’t call me that. You know my name.”

“Chanyeol.”

“Better.”

The brunet clacks his teeth together making him grimace at the sound. After the tea boy quietly leaves, thankfully minding his own business Baekhyun only realizes that he was holding something that isn’t his: snooping around.

So he lets it go, placing it back on the desk, Chanyeol watching him with the same smile that he had when he left the male’s apartment.

“Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to, it’s just…” He fades out.

“Just?” Chanyeol inquires, “Go on. I don’t mind at all.”

The young director walks towards the small bookshelf by the side and pulls out a black book.

“I used to receive ribbons when I was a kid, along with a letter, and this one reminded me of them.

You know, how they’re all—“

“Pink, icky and girly.”

“Pink, icky and girly?”

They both say in unison.

 

A laugh erupts form the both of them, and Baekhyun watches the male lose his uptight façade; and his eyes crinkle, a certain spark catches Baekhyun’s attention and he doesn’t realize that he’s ogling at him.

As Chanyeol clears his throat, he slowly wipes the side of his eye, letting out a small shake of the head.

“What a coincidence.”

 

He turns around, placing back the ribbon on the desk as to where he found it, and this time, he doesn’t miss the wooden name plate by the desk that proudly introduces the man.

“Park Chan Yeol, Human Resources Director”

Baekhyun sets his eyes on it before he shakes his head a little. The beeping of the taller male’s phone blaring and killing the mutual silence between them; “Ah, I guess I have to run. Totally forgot about this meeting.”

“Oh, okay! U-uh… I guess I better go? Sir?”

“Baekhyun, please. Don’t call me sir that would make things difficult for me.”

Difficult? How? Baekhyun wanted to question.

But instead he just shakes his head as he makes a beeline towards the door.

It’s a quick meeting, but hey—at least Chanyeol didn’t act like he was a stranger to him.

That alone made him happy.

 

Shrugging, the brunet walks to the door and turns back towards the tall man, “Whatever you say. Chanyeol.”

“Much better.”

 

**. . .**

 

The door clicks to a close and Chanyeol smiles ever so fondly.

He goes around his desk, tapping the touchpad of his laptop and his desktop displays a scanned photo of two kids at the fountain at one of the annual company gatherings.

 

“Finally, Baek."

 

"Finally."

 


	2. Extra - Happy Valentine's Day

Baekhyun lets out a yawn, typing away onto his keyboard as his eyes slide over to the right to check on his mailbox that hasn’t really been moving along since two hours ago.

He swings his feet from side to side, the heels of his leather shoes making a small clack on the wooden footrest hidden underneath his desk because _“by God, you can’t even reach the floor?”_ That Chanyeol had to have a customized footrest be made for him.

The memory irks the receptionist, but as he continues to type gibberish words away onto _Document1_ , Baekhyun could only smile in embarrassment that the memory would always serve him when it hit to remembrance.

 

In the afternoon, the brunet receives a job that has his nerves fly off the roof. A big report had to be done that afternoon, forwarded to the head office in England but because his manager wasn’t around, Baekhyun was the next person to work on it.

Baekhyun heaves out a breath, clicking non-stop on his frozen desktop that won’t seem to cooperate with him.

He’s sweating bullets because he needs to get the power point done before the day ends and his desktop being a complete asshole to him wasn’t helping at all, rather, it’s making his day a living hell more than ever.

He’s going to have to do overtime if this keeps occurring, and no, he didn’t want that. He fucking doesn’t want that at all. He already made plans for the evening, and being stopped by a stupid 178-slide power point presentation wasn’t going to be his stupid excuse.

 

Baekhyun’s phone rings on cue, as though the caller had known he’d get this much of a dump at work.

Baekhyun inwardly snorts, of course he knows. Why would he not know?

“Hello?” He frustratingly greets. He makes sure that he clicks on the mouse harder and more audible than ever just so the male on the other line would hear him.

_“Having a bad day?”_

“I’m having the _worst!_ ” He corrects, “and for your information Mr Park Chanyeol, you will too when you find out why.”

 _“Why?”_ The male egged on.

“Because I’ll be working overtime today meaning, our date is _cancelled_ for the 3rd time.” He growled, clicking onto the screen that now says ‘Not responding…’ Baekhyun’s heart thumps, afraid that the powerpoint will shut down. “You should be concerned.”

 _“Should I really?”_ He teased.

“Nah. I was just kidding.” He pouts, slumping back for a bit, but then someone walks by giving him the stink eye that he straightens up, his hand finding the mouse again; Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows as he has a brief eye-to-eye contest with the bimbo.

“Don’t take everything I say seriously, you know they’ll hate me for it if you did something.”

_“They all hate you either way even if you weren’t doing anything so I doubt there’d be any changes to that.”_

“Point well made, Mr Park.”

 

Thankfully though, Baekhyun was able to proof-read and format the wordings right on time; rendering the document into a PDF, the young male was able to send the report earlier than he expected.

After he tensed in front of his screen as he typed an equally tensed sentence about the report being forwarded to headquarters as well as attaching the file in there, Baekhyun plopped his back onto his too large seat and melted if he could have—except the air conditioner is too low and Baekhyun could feel the cold right into his balls.

Cringing, the brunet pulled himself back to a seated position and yawned to his heart’s content. His fingers were getting cold, the tips freezing that he rubbed them over his lap, appreciating the heat gathering except that he’s literally passing the cold over to his legs.

Baekhyun pouted.

“Ten more minutes?” He mumbled to himself as he caught eyes with the wall clock hanging by the lounge, his eyes darting next towards the camera that’s situated at the corner of the room with a glare. He knows it’s the HR director who has the main control.

Yeah well, Chanyeol told him that.

 

It isn’t until there were 3 minutes left that Baekhyun begun closing the files that were left open in a daily basis. He closed the web browser off that’s on Incognito, inwardly frustrated that he was too busy to read the latest dinosaur articles posted by bbd news.

One by one, his colleagues have begun flooding in on the lounge; his _territory_ he always thought of it as—and as he calmly put his keyboard back in its place, placing his mouse at the corner as he clicks on the shutdown button, Baekhyun’s facial muscles begin to go numb as he feels some of their eyes raking his form.

Baekhyun blinked his eyes as he looked ahead, ignoring them.

It’s been two years, yet they still remain as tense buttholes at the sight of him.

He fights the smile forming but alas, Baekhyun found himself lowering his head back down as he gathers his phone and his notebook, shaking his head with a low snicker.

“Ready to go?” Someone called out.

Baekhyun felt his heart leap, knowing that some few of his colleagues also whipped their heads at the sound of the voice. They all knew who that voice belonged to.

“C-Chanyeol…” Baekhyun stammered.

It’s a rare sight for Chanyeol to come down to the reception area. Usually, it’d be Baekhyun who would sneak away while his colleagues were staring out the door waiting for their rides.

“Let’s go.” The director beckoned him over with a hand.

Baekhyun blushed because Chanyeol’s eyes never left his, and the direct eye contact was still something that got to his nerves, making him blush especially because Chanyeol knows what he’s doing—because he’s doing what he’s doing to show their relationship off.

It’s been a long road—Two years, who would’ve thought that this is how they’d end up as.

 

With a deep breath, Baekhyun slung his messenger bag onto his shoulder without looking away. He pocketed his phone and walked to where the taller male stood with his hand still offered to him.

Without looking back or caring about the seething looks behind him, Baekhyun took Chanyeol’s hand and clasped his own around his. Chanyeol leaned down to kiss his hair, muttering something that made him laugh heartily.

“Did those tense buttholes give you a hard time again?”

That’s right, Chanyeol gave them the nickname.

Baekhyun giggled again, “They didn’t.”

“Alright, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to get to the restaurant with our food waiting.”

“Restaurant?”

“We’re going on a date, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Baekhyun smiled brightly, the both of them now walking towards the back exit with their hands still tangled together. “Date.”

“Date! You don’t sound so happy about it.” Chanyeol murmured.

Opposite to what the male is saying though, Baekhyun simply looked at him with the same smile plastered on his face since Chanyeol came to fetch him from his post.

“I don’t sound happy? Did you see my face at all?” He asked a bubble in his tone as Chanyeol quietly reached for his other side where his messenger bag hung.

Baekhyun wouldn’t say but he loved it when Chanyeol took care of him like that.

“Your face is going to split apart from smiling.” Chanyeol deadpanned.

 

They walked further towards the parking lot, where the older male’s car waited for them. Chanyeol’s suit remained unwrinkled; his other hand hiding in his pocket and Baekhyun wasn’t fazed when the car’s headlights blinked because he knew that that’s where the male kept his car keys.

Walking him to his side of the seat, Chanyeol opened the door for him. Baekhyun’s smile grew wider. “Okay, I love it when you do that.” He laughed. The brunet knew that the laugh he let off was one of Chanyeol’s favourite laughs of his.

“And I told you to stop smiling like that. Only I can wrinkle my face—“ He said, but still leaned in to give Baekhyun an unexpected peck on the lips. “I love that though.” The director breathed against his lips and Baekhyun was left to purse his lips back in complete shock, Chanyeol had to push him into his seat and put on his seat belt for him.

Really, Baekhyun still hasn’t gotten used to this.

 

It’s been a rough road for them in the beginning. Chanyeol too forward yet at the same time, too secretive had kept something so big (to Baekhyun at least) that he’d been the same boy that Baekhyun had that special connection with during his childhood.

It took a while for Baekhyun to connect the dots, to realize that Chanyeol’s been leaving hints over and over again and that merely, he was waiting for the petite to get it.

It was funny to Chanyeol, he once admitted—watching Baekhyun and being a stranger to him—he said it brought memories back from their childhood, but Baekhyun didn’t really take it lightly.

To Baekhyun, Chanyeol was the only living connection to the good life that he once had, and to know that he was going to hide that away, keep that away from him, Baekhyun felt hurt and frustrated. It only added onto the hollow that was burning in his heart, the hollow that were only filled with debtors chasing him then, their knocks getting louder and louder as Baekhyun hid himself in the storage room where he’s bundled himself with his thick blankets.

He’d reached a point where he’d receive death threats from some of his step-douche’s debtors, and with the weight of it all, Baekhyun found himself without a home, his things taken by some of the strange men in obviously cheap but expensive-looking suits with their hair shaved off.

When they’d all taken his things away—those that seemed worthy of some money—Baekhyun was left only with his boxes of letters, his piling dirty suits and his bundle of blankets that they missed from the storage room.

He’d never felt so lost then.

It was when Chanyeol came to his rescue— Baekhyun hadn’t come to work for three days without a notice; he was without any means of communication, too shaken up by the occurrence, he was too lost, his mind running only with one question: What do I do now?

There was no sleeping for him in those nights, that when he heard Chanyeol calling his name from the hallway, he found himself on his feet, wobbling, his eyes blurry, his breathing ragged and his body in heat as he barely processed what was happening.

It was a re-run of what had happened last Valentine’s, just that this time, Baekhyun was in the lowest of low and Chanyeol was no longer just a stranger to him.

 

When Baekhyun came to, not only did he find himself in a room that wasn’t his own, he’d also found himself there, under the sheets—Chanyeol’s arms wrapped around him securely as though he wanted to make sure that he knew when Baekhyun awoke.

Chanyeol nursed him back to health just like before. They barely spoke, until Chanyeol had given him a letter that resembled the ones that were in his box.

It was crusty, the same _pink, icky and girly_ wrapped around it.

“This was the last letter I tried to send to you.” Chanyeol said simply. The letter was filled with worn out stamps, almost filled with post stamps to the brim, “I kept trying, but they kept returning it to me. I thought it was your response, but then the seal was never torn off.

Meaning it never reached you—you never read it.”

Baekhyun remembered reading the most of it.

Still burning up, Chanyeol helped him tear the envelope open, and he’d read it to him in such a way—that Baekhyun swore that he was delusional. It was Chanyeol as a child writing, and the Chanyeol years after had read it to him, not even knowing all the shit he’d been through, how his life dampened as the years passed.

 _“… That I’ll find you no matter how long it takes, and just like I did in front of that fountain, (I still remember!!! Don’t forget!!!) I’m going to kiss you again._ _J_ _”_

Like teenagers reuniting, the both of them sat before each other on the male’s bed.

Baekhyun didn’t know what it all meant—he still couldn’t process it. But the way his heart thumped badly against his ribcage, the more Baekhyun knew that all those stolen glances and the too-familiar events between them was more than just a pen-pal—a childhood friend trying to reconnect.

Like a memory that’s been sleeping for a lot of years had finally found its wake up call, the memory nagged at the brunet, a vivid canvas of himself as a small boy wearing a dress shirt that’s far too big for him comes into mind.

He was standing, with his chubby hands clutching at the back, against the fountain where the taller boy kissed him on his lips as he leant down. Baekhyun’s brown hat flying away as the air disturbed two innocent children at play.

Baekhyun found himself jolting awake to find Chanyeol’s face inches away from his own. He knew that the then-redhead noticed that the memory’s back to him. Like Chanyeol was waiting for that to happen.

“You promised.” Baekhyun muttered.

“And so did you.” Chanyeol returned.

 

They didn’t hurry to form a relationship at all. With their past rising back from the forgotten, it was obvious to anyone who saw them together that something was up.

It wasn’t secret too that Baekhyun’s reputation as a Byun was still frowned upon, that it wasn’t quite surprising that he became another topic for gossip, his jealous colleagues talking about him like praying mantis, spreading fire after fire that Baekhyun’s probably been sleeping with the director or sucking up to the young lad to keep a good image.

Chanyeol was too successful at a young age, everyone knew that. They all wanted a gist of what it’s like to laugh and call the director by his first name, but then it was well-known to all that only one person in the office had that privilege—Chanyeol made sure they all knew how Baekhyun differed to them, and that made Baekhyun’s life worse because he’d been under scrutinizing eyes ever since he came to work there and now because the director is favouring him more than ever.

Chanyeol wasn’t even hiding it for God’s sake.

It was a petty argument that blew up. One because Baekhyun found out that his lease has been discontinued.

Chanyeol’s been accommodating him in an extra room but then they’d talked about how Baekhyun just needed a place to say until he could get back to his feet—and then he found out—that Chanyeol has paid off his step-douche’s debts which he didn’t even know how much in total because nobody gave him the fucking memo.

“You don’t want your grandchildren to pay that for you too, Baekhyun.” The tall male said sarcastically.

And Chanyeol’s been too calm about it all afterwards. Like he’s been studying Baekhyun ever since he came; like he’s known Baekhyun all his life, and it frightened the petite at some point, and he didn’t know just what it is he’d gotten himself in when he agreed to whatever Chanyeol decided.

“You know it’s not all coincidence that I’m here with you right now.” Chanyeol told him after he broke down crying—out of confusion, out of self-pity.

Chanyeol has seen him in the lowest of low and Baekhyun just didn’t know how this perfect person came and turned his life around. Took care of him—despite the fact that they did have a past together; it was still too much of a mystery that Chanyeol knew what was going on in his life.

“Please, just tell me the truth. Why do you know so much?”

“I’m well-informed, Baekhyun. I keep tabs.”

“Don’t tell me you had me followed—watched, or whatever—“

“What—no! I’m not like that!” Chanyeol defended and then he stalked off somewhere to his room.

When the male came back, he was carrying a worn out box, much like the one Baekhyun owned. Piles and piles of pictures, crusty letter envelopes fell on the floor all of a sudden.

Chanyeol sat with him, his dainty fingers digging into it.

“This,” Chanyeol said, unfolding a worn out paper, “According to me father, was the last document that your dad signed before he died.”

The taller male offered the letter to him, his finger highlighting a sentence that talked about _‘the union of our children shall forever be bound by this letter…’_

“What—what does this mean?” Baekhyun asked, his tears still falling as he is hit with a memory of his father, “what does this mean? I don’t understand.”

Chanyeol then offered him a photo, where two boys sat on the side of the fountain, their fingers laced together with their backs facing the picture.

Baekhyun vividly remembers it.

And then, the director turned the photo around to reveal a caption written there.

Baekhyun cried even more as he recognized his father’s hand-writing. He hasn’t forgotten it. He never will.

In it, the caption said ‘ _Young Master Park and My lovely Byun. They look great together, as our mothers said._

_We may as well call it a premonition, Jinyoung.’_

“What does this mean, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asked then.

His heart hammered in his chest, and Baekhyun was lost for words, his mind playing, his head swirling, and his tears never-ending.

“It means that even if you were on the other side of the world, I was going to find you. It doesn’t have to be me. My parents were planning to do so already had I not told them that you were already working in one of our companies.”

Chanyeol took him in for a hug, holding him tight, “It means that even though I wasn’t around in the past—you were never alone, _Baek_. So chin up, and dry those tears.

I can’t have my fiancé sobbing every time we’re at home.”

“Home you say—you terminated my lease!”

“What’s the use if you have me?”

“You paid off my step-father’s debts!”

“I couldn’t stand seeing you helpless, Baek. Besides, you’ve already paid the debts since two weeks ago.”

“What?”

“You have. They just wouldn’t say because they wanted to keep taking money from you. I paid nothing. You did it all by yourself, love.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? I’ve had them tracked down and I found out that this is what they do. You’re among many victims and I just wanted it to stop. When I saw you in your apartment the last time, I just couldn’t help myself. I won’t forgive anyone who makes your life difficult—“

Baekhyun didn’t know where the courage came from, but he shut Chanyeol up with a finger, and dove in, hugging him tight—the tightest that he ever could.

 

“We finally met.” He whispered.

Baekhyun felt Chanyeol’s hands around his waist, the male returning the embrace.

“Again,” Chanyeol corrected, “We finally met _again._ ”

 

 

The drive was quiet, save for the song playing. Baekhyun’s humming along to it as he keeps a smile on his face.

The brunet peeks to the side, studying the male who’s focused on getting them to their destination.

As Baekhyun shivers in his seat, he nuzzles himself on the taller male’s long coat. Baekhyun smiles as he inhales Chanyeol’s scent, memories coming in, passing by and making his heart flutter.

“Should I turn the heater further?” Chanyeol asked with concern lacing his voice.

Baekhyun hummed a no, enjoying the warmth of the fabric over him, “It’s okay.”

“I told you to bring your jacket. You’re going to get sick again.”

“No I won’t,” Baekhyun smiles, “I know you’ll keep me warm.” He says casually, sneaking his hand out of the jacket to place it over Chanyeol’s on the steering wheel.

Chanyeol takes his hand into his and kisses the back of his hand, “That I will.”

 

There’s no ring on Baekhyun’s finger yet, but much to how long he’s known his lover, they won’t be in a hurry to take the next step. They’ve walked this long in the journey understanding each other—Baekhyun realizing that the man is actually a man-child. Which is cute, Chanyeol will never let him off sane if he ever calls him that again.

Baekhyun no longer faints on his doorsteps. Nor does he get sick on late nights.

 

As they arrive in the venue for their date, Baekhyun breathes a contented sigh.

Chanyeol ushers him into his seat, walking around to his own only to reach for his hand after he signals the waiter that they’re ready for their meal.

 “Happy Valentines’ Day.”

While waiting for the bill, the couple found themselves a pair of giggling teenagers as they land their eyes on the ribbons wrapped around the candles.

 

They were pink.


End file.
